


worse things to be (than soft)

by All_Your_Cats_Are_Belong_To_Us (Phoenix_of_Athena), Phoenix_of_Athena



Series: soft omens snuggle house GTA ficlets [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is A Bastard™, Banter, Bickering, Canon - Book, Crowley is Also a Bastard™, Drinking & Talking, Ficlet, Fluff, Gen, Guess The Author, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), They're Married™, They're both soft, buuut not actually married, it's about the dynamic, mostly for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24762055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/All_Your_Cats_Are_Belong_To_Us, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_of_Athena/pseuds/Phoenix_of_Athena
Summary: “It was you.Youstarted it.”Crowley attempted to arrange his face into something innocent (it didn't work; Crowley’s face wasn’t really made forinnocent—or perhaps it was just that Aziraphale knew him too well).
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: soft omens snuggle house GTA ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820752
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author, SOSH - Guess the Author #01 "You started it"





	worse things to be (than soft)

**Author's Note:**

> For the Soft Omens Snuggle House discord's Guess the Author event! The prompt was: "You started it," with a max wordcount of 500.

It was early evening, and Crowley and Aziraphale were drinking.

“What I can't understand,” Aziraphale was saying, a pinched look about his face, “is why there are so _many_ people involved in this foolishness.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest of the settee. Beside him, curled up in an armchair with a glass of wine raised to his lips, Crowley snickered. 

“Really?” the demon said. “I thought it was quite clever. Whoever came up with the whole thing must be a genius.”

Aziraphale's eyes narrowed and then widened almost instantly.

“It was you. _You_ started it.”

Crowley attempted to arrange his face into something innocent (it didn't work; Crowley’s face wasn’t really made for _innocent—_ or perhaps it was just that Aziraphale knew him too well). 

“What?” he said. And then, when that wasn’t emphatic enough: “What _, me?_ Of _course_ not. I mean, I'm not nearly clever enough to think up something like that.”

“Oh, now you're just being ludicrous,” Aziraphale scoffed. “Please. I know you. You were definitely behind this; don't you lie to me.”

“All right, all right,” said Crowley peevishly. “Don't be cross. I was just having a bit of fun. And honestly, those people could use the loosening up.” He cracked a wicked looking grin. “Besides, you can’t tell me that you’re actually _upset_ about old Mr. Reeves’s peace being disturbed. It was only last week that you were telling me how _‘frightfully rude and downright inappropriate’_ he is.” Crowley pitched his voice to sound like Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale’s expression gained a tinge of wry humor.

“I _did_ say that, didn’t I?” he said. And then, slowly: “Why Crowley, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you did this for _me.”_

Crowley’s high cheeks flushed and he busied himself with his wineglass. Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled behind his reading glasses and he was _smirking,_ the smug bastard. Laughing at Crowley, undoubtedly, and Crowley couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it either. He _had_ gone ridiculously soft since he and Aziraphale had moved out of London. 

...And besides, smug wasn’t a bad look on the angel; not at _all_ , although Crowley wouldn't admit it (or at least he wouldn't admit it _yet._ Give him time, though—give _both_ of them enough time—and who knew what things they’d eventually admit). 

Crowley cleared his throat and ignored the heat in his cheeks; tactfully, Aziraphale did as well. Less tactfully, he didn’t let the subject drop.

“My dear boy,” the angel went on, “you’ve become generous in your old age. Kind. Compassionate. Loyal.”

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley muttered into his glass. “I am not. You know I’m only like that around—” _You,_ he didn’t say. But he didn’t need to. He knew Aziraphale heard it anyway, from the stupidly soft expression that came over his face. 

“Soft bastard,” the demon thought fondly. “Soft bastards, the _both_ of us.” 

That was all right, though. There were worse things to be. 


End file.
